The monitors flickered in front of me—one stacked with footage from Martin’s apartment building, another showing a grainy view of Kimberly’s favorite café, and a third pulling feeds from traffic cams near the old warehouse district.
Mateo leaned forward at his desk, typing quickly. “Martin’s car left the garage at 1:23 PM the day Elora disappeared. He was gone for twenty minutes. No gas stop. No store receipts. Just… nothing. We lost him around 8th Street—he must’ve dipped into a dead zone.”
“Pull the alley cams near there. Someone always thinks they’re invisible.” I folded my arms tighter and nodded toward another screen. “Kimberly?”
“She made a food delivery order at 1:45,” Mateo muttered. “Paid in cash. No receipt. Took her own car. Left her driver behind.”
I clenched my jaw. Sloppy
